


Whiskey on Ice

by lauraayates



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: 2x07, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence, F/M, Mrs. Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 01:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraayates/pseuds/lauraayates
Summary: You should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk, and you should think about the consequences of your magnetic field being a little too strong. / You would have thought that waking up hungover in Garcia Flynn’s bed - with him sat in the corner starring at her - rather creepily - would be enough to put Lucy off drinking forever. Only this time, it’s not Flynn’s bed she wakes up in. / It’s not often that Wyatt Logan’s Texan drawl creeps into his voice, but when Lucy is lucky enough to be in his presence when it does, it does things to her insides that she never thought possible. When she's drunk, it just makes her laugh. Canon divergence from 2x07.





	Whiskey on Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Post 2x07, Mrs. Sherlock Holmes. Canon divergence - Mason and Christopher tell Wyatt straight away about Jess being Rittenhouse. Wyatt signs the divorce papers and Jess is removed from the bunker. This takes place a few days later.

_ 10:03am. _

Lucy isn’t sure if it’s the sliver of light, creeping in through the small row of windows lining the top of the walls, or the smell of coffee that wakes her. Either way she wakes with a pounding head and a mouth dryer than the Sahara dessert.

“Morning, sleepy head.” Wyatt drawls, as he places two mugs of coffee on the end table at the head of the bed.

Lucy groans and rolls over, burying her head into the pillow and pulling the sheet over her head. “Not so loud.” 

Wyatt chuckles at her reaction and perches on the end of the bed - his bed if you want to get technical. “Yeah, that’ll happen if you drink almost a full bottle of whiskey.”

She quickly brings the sheet from over her head and frowns at him. “A full bottle?” She doesn’t remember that detail. She cringes at thought of everything she does remember doing, and everything she could have done but doesn’t remember doing. “I did something embarrassing, didn’t I?”

“Define embarrassing.” His smirk widens. He’s clearly enjoying her misery. If she had the strength or the energy to move, she’d sit up and punch him in the shoulder. She doesn’t, so she settles for glaring at him. “You got drunk and poured your heart out to me. Then gave me a strip tease and tried to seduce me.”

She blanches at his words. “I- No, I-” She stutters, not quite sure if she should believe him or not.

_ 10:13pm. _

The four consecutive knocks Lucy lands on the door to his room echo through the entire bunker. She winces at the sound, praying she hasn’t woken anyone. She waits a beat before knocking again. When, yet again, she gets no answer, she slowly pushes the door open and pops her head inside. “Wyatt?”

The room is empty. The two beds that previously stood pushed together in the centre of the room, have now been moved back to their original positions against opposite walls. Wyatt’s belongings are neatly strewn about across the left side of the room, while the right side lays bare. If Lucy was seeing this room for the first time, she’d never know that it was previously shared by a married couple. All evidence that Jess was ever here is gone. _Good, that’s the last thing I need tonight._

Lucy pushes the door open and steps inside, tightening her hold on the full bottle of whiskey she’s swiped from Mason’s stash in the kitchenette. Stopping just inside the room, she turns back to watch the door swing closed behind her. She’s not quite sure what to do now, nor why she came here in the first place.

Dragging her feet, she makes her way over to Wyatt’s bed and drops herself onto the mattress. She scoots back until she’s resting against the wall and her feet are hanging over the edge. The cap on the bottle is screwed on tight. Whoever made this bottle clearly didn’t want her getting drunk tonight. _Maybe I should take that as a sign._

“Take what as a sign?” Lucy snaps her head up at the voice. Wyatt is stood in the doorway, dressed in nothing but sweat pants and a frown. He has his wash kit clutched in his arms and a damp towel hung around his neck.

“So that’s where you were.” Lucy remarks, still struggling to unscrew the bottle. She sighs and holds it out to him. “Little help?”

He takes the bottle and unscrews the cap with no effort. “I didn’t take you for a Whiskey drinker.”

She reaches out for the bottle, frowning at him when he doesn’t move to hand it back. “I’m not, but I drank all the vodka last week.”

Wyatt moves across the room and deposits the open bottle, and his wash kit down on the end table at the head of the bed. Lucy frowns at him, not wanting to move from her position. He drapes the towel over the back of the chair in the corner of the room, before peeking over his shoulder at her. Upon seeing the deep frown on her face, he chuckles at her. “I’m not giving you this bottle, until you tell me why you’re in here in the middle of the night, clearly intent on getting drunk.”

She doesn’t quite know how to answer that. She knows why she wants to get drunk, but she isn’t sure why she came here. Last time she went to Flynn, why didn’t she go there again this time? Lucy huffs loudly and pushes herself up off the bed, if he won’t give her the bottle, then she’ll have to get up and get it herself. What she doesn’t count on, is Wyatt snatching the bottle back up and holding it up above his head, way out of her reach.

“I know where Mason keeps his stash you know, I could always just go get another bottle.” She raises her eyebrows at him briefly, before her face splits into a wide grin as Wyatt brings the bottle back down to her level. She reaches out to take it back from him, but he pulls it back and takes the first swig before she can close her fingers around the neck of the bottle. “I never said you could drink my alcohol.”

He smirks and hands the bottle back to her. “You never said I couldn’t… You also never answered my question.”

“Because I don’t know the answer.” She shrugs, takes the bottle from him, and returns to the bed. Only this time she crawls under the covers and makes herself as comfortable as she can against the short metal head of the bed.

After everything with Jess - after he’d pulled the rug right out from under Lucy, and returned to his not-so-dead wife; after Mason and Christopher had come to him with the news that this Jess was a member of Rittenhouse; after he’d left the woman he loves, for a woman he’d thought to be dead, moved on from, and was now a member of an organisation that wanted him and his friends dead - he’d never even dreamed that he could return to this place with Lucy. A place where he could laugh and joke with her, a place where she feels comfortable enough with him to just crawl into his bed without any expectations of it going any further than just talking to him. Right now, he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

Wyatt shakes is head affectionately at her, before turning to grab a shirt from his makeshift wardrobe. He hears the slosh of the alcohol as Lucy takes a drink from the bottle. He hears the smack of her lips as they part from the glass. He hears the suggestive tone in her voice, as she gives voice to words he never thought he would hear from her. "I never said you could put a shirt on either.”

“Again, you never said I couldn’t.” He goes to slip the shirt on over his head, and… _is she growling at me?_ He turns to see a scowl on her face. “Okay. No shirt.”

Wyatt makes his way to the foot of the bed, swiping the bottle of whiskey from between her lips as he passes her. He settles himself opposite her on the bed and takes another long swig from the bottle, relishing in the faint taste of…  her he can pick up mixed with the alcohol, from where she’d just held the bottle between her lips. 

“Hey! Can you stop doing that!?” She reaches a leg out to kick him in the thigh, but before she can make contact, he grabs her foot and holds it in his lap.

“You were the kid that never shared her toys in the playground, weren’t you?” Wyatt teases, holding her foot between his thumb and fingers, running his thumb back and forth across the sole of her foot.

“My books, actually, but yes, I was.” She says proudly. “But I’m not exactly going to go around giving the book I’m currently reading to someone else, am I?”

Releasing her foot, he shakes his head at her and hands the bottle back. She leans forward to grab it from him, but before she can take it, he pulls it back with a playful smirk. With her now free foot, she kicks him in the thigh as she had originally planned to do. “Give me my alcohol back.”

“Mason’s alcohol.” He groans out, rubbing the spot on his thigh that she’d just kicked. “You pack quite the punch there, professor. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Keep running that mouth of yours and I’ll show you just how much I’ve been holding out on you.” She smirks at the taken aback look on his face. With him distracted trying to work out exactly what she means, she leans forward and snatches the bottle from his grasp.

_ 10:04am. _

Wyatt chuckles at the look on her face. He shakes his head slightly, not quite able to keep her in this state of worrying over her dignity for as long as he’d like to. “No, sadly no strip teases - at least on your part. But you did get drunk, you did pour your heart out to me, and you did seduce me… Or you tried to.”

Lucy didn’t think it was possible to get any paler than she’d already become, but somehow she figures out a way for it to happen. Her grip on the covers tightens and she brings them back up over her head, unable to look at him in this moment. “Oh, god. I- I’m sorry, Wyatt. I never should have come in here last night. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.”

Prying the sheets from between her fingers, Wyatt uncovers her face and brings a hand to her cheek, using his other arm to support him as he leans over her. “Don’t apologise, Lucy. You may feel embarrassed right now, but once your memories return to you and you remember that heart to heart, I promise you won’t feel as bad.”

She leans into his touch, relishing the contact. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He smiles affectionately at her, before reaching up to grab the mugs of coffee he’d brought them. “Here.”

The sight of the coffee mug he’s holding out to her is what finally gets her to push herself up. Taking the mug from him, she cradles it close to her chest and brings her legs up to cross them in front of her. “Thanks.”

_ 12:52am. _

Their giggling echoes around the room, but both are too far gone - on both the alcohol, and each other’s presence - to care if they can also be heard throughout the rest of the bunker, to care if they wake anyone else up.

Lucy leans forward and snatches the bottle from between Wyatt’s lips, where he’s currently taking a sip of the amber liquid, causing a small amount to splash onto his still bare chest. She still hasn’t allowed him to put a shirt on. 

“Oops.” She shrugs when she sees the whiskey running down his chest. Placing the bottle on the floor, she rises up on her knees and begins to crawl towards him. The laughter between them dies out suddenly, when she sits herself down on his thighs and brings her hands up to rest on his chest. The look in her eyes tells him he’ll enjoy every second of what she has planned, but that she’ll likely regret it come morning. 

“Lucy, what are you doing?” Wyatt stutters, sobering up slightly. No matter how much he wants this, he can’t let it happen. Not right now.

Her eyes are wide and full of innocence, though he knows her thoughts are anything but. “I’m not wasting any of this.”

“Lucy, please.” She scoots back on his legs slightly, bending awkwardly to reach the liquid that’s beginning to drip dangerously close to his nipple. She drags her tongue slowly across the smooth skin of his chest, catching the majority of the liquid. Before she can go back in for the rest, he brings his hands up to grab her arms and pull her away from him, before she takes this too far. “Not tonight. Not like this.”

Wyatt sighs in relief when she goes limp in arms, collapsing against him. She wiggles herself out of the grasp he has on her arms, so she can wrap them around him. He secures his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tight into his embrace. They stay locked together, both content to simply breath the other in. 

“I’m sorry.” Her words are quiet, and muffled slightly from where she has her face buried in the crook of his neck.

He tightens his embrace. “Don’t apologise. I want this, Lucy. I have all along if I’m being completely honest.”

“If I’m not allowed to apologise, then you’re not allowed to feel guilty.” The tears she’d tried so hard to keep contained for most of the night, begin to silently slip down her cheeks. _How did we become so messed up?_ “I understand why you went back to her, Wyatt. You spent so long trying to get her back, and you wouldn’t be the man you are, if you didn’t honour the vow you made when you married her. I’m not upset with you for staying true to who you are… It’s why I- ” She sighs and shakes her head. _It’s too soon to say those words._

He nods his head, his chin knocking slightly against her forehead. “But you are upset with me.”

She pulls back from his embrace. “I am. I may understand why you tried to make things work with her, but I don’t agree with how you handled things.” Her hands twist together in her lap, the movement causing them to occasionally brush against his abdomen. “We spent such a wonderful night together, and I thought I finally had what I have wanted for so long. And I did… for a short time at least. But before that night, first and foremost, we were best friends. When she came back you pushed me away, and you stopped talking to me - stopped opening up to me. You got your wife back, and I lost my best friend.”

Wyatt takes her face in his hands and brings their foreheads together. “I cannot apologise enough for that. You’re right, we were best friends first. I just-” He sighs, not quite sure how to put his feelings into words, into a sentence or two that she’d understand and not hate him for. “I thought pushing you away would be easier for the both of us. I don’t know, I guess I was wrong.”

Lucy pulls herself from his grasp, not quite sure what to make of his words. _What the hell did he mean, easier?_ “How was losing my best friend supposed to make everything easier on me?” 

“I don’t know, Lucy.” He sighs - he’s done far too much of that tonight, they both have. “God, I destroyed everything between us, didn’t I?”

A small smile pulls at the corner of her lips. “Not completely.”

“We’ll be o-” He cuts himself off when she covers her face with her hands and starts giggling. “What the hell are you laughing about? I thought we were having a heart to heart here?”

The slightly offended look on his face, brings an abrupt stop to her giggling. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”The giggling begins again. Wyatt frowns at her slightly, and pulls her hands away from her face, intertwining their fingers. _This is the last time I let her drink whiskey_. “Your Texan accent comes out when you’re drunk.”

“You’re laughing at the way I talk?” He shakes his head at her affectionately - something else he’s done far too much of tonight. “Okay… No more alcohol for you tonight.” When a pleading puppy look starts to form on her face, he wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into a tight embrace. He can’t say no to her. If he can’t see her face, then she can’t get what she wants out of him.

_ 10:23am. _

“You think you can handle some food?” Wyatt takes the empty mug from her hands.

She shrugs at him. “I can try.”

Wyatt stands and, with both mugs clutched in one hand, cups Lucy’s cheek in his other. He leans down slightly and presses a tender kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go get a shower, while I go start breakfast for us.”

She leans into the hand still against her cheek and returns his soft smile. “Okay.” She says softly, as she watches him leave the room.

_ 10:48am. _

Lucy pads slowly into the common area, her sock clad feet silent against the hard concrete floor. She’s not quite sure where everyone else is, but she’s thankful they have the room to themselves. _Best make the most of it, I don’t think the privacy is going to last long._ Wyatt is stood at the stove. She’s not quite sure what he’s making for them, but it definitely involves eggs if the broken shells on the side are anything to go by. She moves in behind him, wrapping her arms tight around his waist and nuzzling her head between his shoulder blades. “Smells good.”

“It’s just eggs and bacon, nothing special.” He shrugs, turning his head slightly to catch her eye. She’s not going to try and get more alcohol out of him this time. _At least I hope she isn’t._

She looks up and meets his eye, biting her lip briefly. “I wasn’t talking about the eggs or the bacon.”

Wyatt drops his head forward and groans at the suggestive tone in her voice. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Lucy begins to run her hands down his chest and over his abdomen. He jumps back to reality when her fingers creep below the elasticated waistband of his sweat pants. Dropping the spatula he was using to scramble the eggs, onto the counter beside the stove, Wyatt grabs Lucy’s wrists in one hand and spins to face her. He narrows his eyes and searches her face. No way would the Lucy he knew and love ever be this bold. At least not while sober, she wouldn’t. “Are you still drunk?”

Lucy scrunches her face up and holds her thumb and forefinger up to him. “Maybe a little.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He shakes his head at her, his smile wide and affectionate.

_ 03:24am. _

Several hours and the rest of the bottle later, they’ve migrated from either end of the bed, to the centre, where they both now sit side by side up against the wall. Their legs are tangled together, while her head rests on his shoulder. 

Her eyes are closed, but he’s pretty sure she’s not asleep. Unless she started singing in her sleep sometime between 1941 and now. He recognises the tune, but his alcohol hazed brain can’t quite place it.

“You know you’ve got the brand of kisses, that I’d die for.” She sings softly. 

“Oh, I do, do I?” He nudges her head with his shoulder, startling her out of whatever trance she seems to have slipped into.

“You do, what?” She frowns at him, confused. _What the hell is he talking about?_

“I have the brand of kisses that you’d die for.” This only confuses her further. “If that’s the case, then maybe I shouldn’t kiss you ever again.”

“What!? No!” She’s outraged, she wants more than anything to kiss him again. And again, and again. “I love your kisses.”

Before she knows what’s happening, he’s pulled her up onto his lap. “Good.” Wyatt whispers, pulling her face down to his and capturing her lips. It’s all tongues and teeth, their lips moving together without the grace and finesse of any of their previous kisses. Neither are sure in this moment if they’re drunk on the alcohol or each other. Neither cares. It’s a struggle to part when breathing becomes difficult, but the two only take two deep breaths between them before they’re on each other again. She slips her tongue between his lips, intent on tangling it with his own. He doesn’t let her get that far though, and snatches it between his teeth. She briefly struggles against him, attempting to free her tongue, but soon see’s her efforts as futile and reattaches her lips to his. With her lips now firmly attached to his and her hands buried deep in his hair, Lucy drops back and to her right, pulling Wyatt with her. Thanks to the alcohol coursing through her system, her hand-eye coordination isn’t as great as it normally is - not that’s it’s accurate at the best of times. Her head lands, not on the soft pillow like she expected, but instead she whacks it against he metal of the bed frame. 

“Fuck!” She breaks their kiss with a slew of curses, her grip in his hair and on his shoulder tightens, while the throbbing on the back of her head intensifies with every breath she takes. “Ah, shit! That hurts!”

Wyatt’s eyes snap open, and he brings his hands up from her waist to gently cradle her face. “You okay, Luce?” His breathing is heavy and laboured, but the concern in his voice is no less evident.

“I think.” Lucy blinks her eyes open to see him hovering above her. A wide smile breaks out on her face, the pain in her head all but forgotten about. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He chuckles lightly at her sudden change in demeanour. 

He begins to lift himself off of her, intent on moving to Rufus’s bed for the night. “Where’d you think you’re going?” Lucy grabs his arm and pulls him back to her. “Stay.”

“Luce.” He brings his forehead down to hers and closes his eyes. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“No funny business.” Lucy closes her eyes and breaths him in. This is the closest they’ve been since that night all those weeks ago, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t hang on to every last moment she can. He sighs and nods softly, pulling back slightly to place a soft kiss to her forehead.

“No funny business.” He repeats back to her. She shuffles down in the bed, claiming the pillow for herself. Wyatt shakes his head at her and tries to curl himself around her. 

_ 10:57am _

When Wyatt turns with 2 plates of scrambled eggs and bacon in his hands, he finds Lucy sat at one of the tables. She’s sat with her back to him, but the shaking of her shoulders tells him she’s silently laughing. At what, he can only guess, but his hazy memories from the night before give him a pretty good idea. “Are you laughing at my accent again?”

She shakes her head vigorously, trying and failing to put the lid back on her laughter. “No.” She only laughs louder and harder.

“Then what are you laughing at?” He rounds the table and puts the two plates down, one in front of her, the other opposite.

A utensil appears in front of her face. Her laughter stops briefly, but her smile remains wide and child-like. “Spoon.”

Wyatt joins her in her laughter. What he wouldn’t give to hear that sound everyday for the rest of his life. “Yeup, definitely still drunk.” 


End file.
